Way To The South. Dragon Heart (A LitRPG Wuxia) series: Book 18 by Kirill Klevanski

Author:Kirill Klevanski [Klevanski, Kirill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 1598

B adur looked at Hadjar strangely, as if he suspected Hadjar of suffering from dementia or just going outright insane.

“I’m okay.” Hadjar straightened up and held out the thorn. After a bit of thought, he added, “I think I am, anyway.”

“You think you are,” Badur Pagered repeated after him. “For someone who’s supposedly been wandering the Fae Lands for a while, you look more than ‘okay.’ You look alive.”

Hadjar didn’t argue with him. He couldn’t really comprehend how long he’d spent in the Spirit World.

“Come in, Wind of the Northern Valleys,” Badur urged him. “Don’t stand on the threshold. You’ll call your dead.”

Hadjar didn’t understand what that meant, so he just silently went inside. Each nation had its own beliefs and traditions, after all. No one was forcing the Mad General to learn about every superstition.

The Northerner carefully examined the thorn, set aside his axe that had a handle that looked like a cherry tree, and went to Arteus’ bed. The young man looked bad. He shivered in the grip of a searing fever and struggled with convulsions, trying to throw off the heavy blankets made from the skins of mountain cats and goats. There were several buckets by his bed, all of them soaked in the smell of sweat. In one of them, the water was so saturated with waste and blood that it had acquired an incomprehensible color that seemed to be an unholy mixture of brown and scarlet.

In the second bucket, there were dozens of scraps of cloth that had been replaced after being used for poultices and as bandages. One such bandage was on Arteus’ forehead. A few of the small pieces of ice that covered him had almost melted, so it was hard to tell where the sweat began and where the moisture from the melted ice ended. This ice wasn’t simple ice at all. Here, on the northern border, the ice and snow had such a high concentration of elemental energy that a few grams of such a material could’ve turned the Black Mountains of Balium into the White Glaciers of Balium.

Badur adjusted the knot of his braids and then sat down on a chair next to the bed. Surprisingly, Hadjar had managed to forget how different this man was from the fabled image of a true Northerner. He was tall and muscular, but not enough to liken him to a hero from the epics.

It was clear from looking at him that his muscles weren’t a result of hard training, but constant hunting and crafting instead. He had a powerful back and chest, fast and strong shoulders, but also a very narrow neck and thin forearms. Badur used his axe for chopping firewood much more often than he used it on other people. And Hadjar could sense that about him.

“This is an ancient thing,” the Northerner said, twirling the thorn through his fingers. “Maybe it’s even more ancient than the place you’ve just come from.”

“Maybe.”

Badur turned to Hadjar and stared at him.

“Your soul is also wounded, Wind-”

“You can call me Hadjar.

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